Three days had passed since the Battle of Elphant Plains ended. It was a morning in the royal palace when the investiture ceremony was scheduled to take place in the audience hall.
The Kingdom Knight Medal was awarded to those who had rendered distinguished service to the nation. The process involved deliberation based on recommendations from “prominent houses,” followed by the king’s approval. In effect, it was a form of nobility.
Recipients gained hereditary rights and received a limited stipend from the treasury, but were obligated to devote themselves to the nation and its people.
Awards were not limited to military service. In the past, the Crossus family had received this medal for investing enormous funds in the construction and maintenance of the east-west highways.
Unlike the rigid class system of the neighboring Tragia Empire, Elysia had no such structure because the kingdom had originally been founded as a republic formed by several city-states.
Since the ceremony was scheduled after the morning council, the ministers of each department and their assistants had gathered. Beyond that, many had crowded in to witness the historic moment of the kingdom’s first female knight.
Rumors of the young woman who had led the kingdom army to victory in just two days had spread, turning the event almost into a showcase of the female warrior.
“Hadal’s daughter Sara has arrived.”
When the chief chamberlain informed the king, permission to enter was granted.
As the great doors of the audience hall opened, the three recommenders stepped inside: Aurius, Coloniaus, and Aquinas.
Next, led by the hand of Second Prince Clovis, appeared the protagonist of the day: a lovely young maiden dressed in traditional women’s attire—a deep-blue chiton with a long, loosely hanging sash of pale verdigris and white weave.
Her long black hair was neatly arranged, and she wore no ornaments at all, giving a deceptively simple impression. Yet her youth and dignified bearing drew every eye.
Her well-formed features still held a trace of girlish softness, yet her resolute warrior’s stride felt strangely fitting, creating an uncanny charm that captivated the spectators.
Everyone let out a sigh of admiration at the sight.
They had all assumed she would appear in armor, so this outfit took them by surprise. Smiling faces greeted her with warm applause.
“Was this your arrangement?”
The king asked Aquinas.
“Yes. Armor would have lacked elegance.”
“Indeed, a fine touch. Everyone seems utterly fascinated.”
Laughter rippled through the hall.
“Now, bring forward the person these three recommend.”
As the three stood by, Clovis gently urged Sara to step ahead.
For the first time, Sara stood before the King of Elysia.
“I have heard from your recommenders of your exertions in the recent battle. That such deeds were accomplished by a young maiden was hard to believe at first, yet even Clovis has praised you to the skies and declared he wishes to learn military strategy from you.”
The king’s eyes as he looked at his second son were those of a father.
“I myself tried many times to assign him masters of strategy, but it never went well. It seems you have changed his heart. I must thank you as well… I am grateful.”
“Thank you.”
Sara smiled and bowed her head.
“If possible, I would like to see that skill of yours. What do you say?”
At the king’s words, the entire assembly gasped in wonder.
“If that is Your Majesty’s wish, then by all means.”
“Excellent! Prepare targets in the square!”
The three recommenders exchanged glances, frowning.
Clovis looked anxiously at his father’s face.
Yet Sara showed not the slightest sign of agitation; she stood there with perfect composure.
If anything, she looked as if she were enjoying herself.
Seeing this, the recommenders relaxed and could not help smiling at one another.
They felt foolish for having worried, now that they saw her calm demeanor.
A staircase in the audience hall led to a mezzanine, and beyond the corridor lay a balcony.
Targets had already been prepared.
The steward had thoughtfully brought Sara’s own bow and quiver, having heard from the chamberlain before she entered the castle that the king wished to see it.
What he truly wanted to see, however, was her skill.
Sara accepted them, slung the quiver on her back, and slowly studied the targets.
The distance was roughly forty intervals—almost exactly the same as the sniping range in the report, it seemed.
The targets were fairly large: bundles of straw with large circular marks attached, set on wooden stands.
They were about the height of a tall, stout man.
Between the balcony and the targets stood a statue of an armored man on horseback. Any deviation would send an arrow into the statue’s head.
It was probably of some Elysian hero.
Hitting it would become a lifelong joke.
Sara walked to the edge of the oval balcony and stepped up onto the railing.
Those nearby hurriedly moved aside.
Beyond the railing lay only the stone pavement far below.
Gasps of astonishment escaped.
Sara spread her legs slightly, reached into the quiver, and picked two arrows with her fingers.
She nocked one and held the second between her little and ring fingers.
At that moment a gentle breeze lifted the hem of her blue chiton.
All eyes turned to it—exactly when Sara raised her bow to the sky, drew it fully, and released.
With a sharp “Kan!” the arrow melted into the blue heavens.
Immediately she nocked the second and loosed it.
Before the arrows began to fall, Sara took two more from the quiver, nocked one, and this time aimed straight at the target and drew.
The arrows launched high into the sky traced graceful arcs and struck one after another into the space above the target.
Sara loosed the next, then instantly nocked the second.
The spectators held their breath; no one made a sound.
Confirming that the third arrow had hit the target, Sara took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and drew the bow again.
The only sound was the creaking “Gigi…” of the bending wood.
Then, as if resolving herself, she released.
With a crisp “Ka!” the arrow flew straight toward the target.
All eyes were drawn to it.
The arrow struck the nock of the third arrow already embedded in the target, split it cleanly in two, and buried itself in the center.
Silence fell over the hall.
Everyone now understood how the previous battle had ended with her sniping.
“Magnificent!”
The king spoke.
“I have never seen such technique!”
Thunderous cheers and applause erupted.
“I shall bestow upon you the Knight Medal and, furthermore, the title of Bow Saint.”
The three recommenders stared wide-eyed in astonishment and praised Sara.
Sara stepped down from the railing and bowed to the king.
“I am truly grateful that you saved my son from danger. Forgive me for testing you in such a manner.”
“Not at all.”
“Had I not done so, some would still doubt your ability. Now no one will question you.”
The king smiled with satisfaction.
“Clovis.”
At the king’s call, the second prince hurried to his side.
“Learn well from her. But did you wish to study the bow?”
“The bow is fine, but I think I would rather learn the sword.”
“Can you use a sword?”
At the king’s question Sara answered with a smile.
“I am actually better with the sword.”
The king’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Wonderful! I would very much like to see you spar!”
It seemed Lucius had grown interested.
“By all means.”
When Sara replied, astonished voices rang across the balcony.
“Clovis, work hard.”
The king put an arm around Clovis’s shoulder and laughed.
“Yes, Father. With that in mind, may I go stay for a while in Sara’s village to train?”
“What? Not here?”
“Yes. I also wish to see the Rondo weapons.”
“I see, of course. The bows had a unique shape, didn’t they? Are you Rondo people originally from the east?”
Sara answered, surprised.
“Yes. According to legend, we migrated to this land from the east eight hundred years ago.”
“I see. It is said that ironworking is more advanced there. May technicians accompany you?”
“Yes, they will be most welcome.”
The king nodded, smiling.
Thus the investiture ceremony ended in an unprecedented manner.
Everyone rejoiced at the birth of the Bow Saint, a title long vacant.
While walking back from the balcony to the audience hall, Sara walked beside the king.
“Now that I think of it, you do not have a particular family name, do you?”
“No. The entire village is like one family.”
“A generous culture. But in our kingdom we value family names. It would be better for you to have one. Is there any name you desire?”
Sara thought for a moment.
“Then how about the name Rona?”
“Hm. Does it have any origin?”
“Yes. Before our ancestors settled here, we apparently called ourselves Rona.”
“I see. Then I bestow upon you the family name Rona. See that it is properly recorded.”
The king instructed the administrator accordingly.
From this day forward, Sara was known as Rona Sara.
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There was one more piece of happy news.
Supreme Commander Agrius Cletus granted an annual support stipend of fifty gold coins, supplies of military matériel, and permission to fly the Rondo banner. Riad received the certificate.
The evening after the battle ended, they had received orders from Aurius to return in triumph to the capital. They followed behind the generals’ direct units along the royal highway.
There the Rondo soldiers received a grand welcome from the citizens of the capital.
People lined both sides of the road, cheering and applauding.
After the supreme commander’s address, a banquet was held in the great square before the palace.
Food and wine flowed freely, and the generals’ units and the Rondo troops ate and drank with great merriment.
Watching them, Cletus decided on the treatment of the Rondo unit.
The Rondo people had distinguished themselves many times in past wars, yet the staff office had long been wary because of a defeat a hundred years earlier that still stung like a thorn, and because their culture was too alien. They had never been fully utilized.
Unable to place full trust in them, the kingdom had neither pursued assimilation nor made full use of their military strength—only borrowed it when needed.
In short, they had feared the Rondo would grow too powerful.
But this latest exploit had completely dispelled those fears.
The campaign support stipend was granted to units treated as quasi-regular forces, ostensibly for procuring weapons and covering medical costs for injuries.
In other words, serving would now allow them to sustain themselves.
Only a handful of units outside knightly houses received quasi-regular treatment.
For the Rondo, who for a hundred years had answered conscription at their own expense, this was welcome news.
Sara was delighted that it would be a fine souvenir for the village chief.
The day after the investiture ceremony, the Rondo unit set out on the return journey to Rondinia.
“Huh? Where are Sedy and Nacel? Haran’s missing too.”
Sara looked around.
“Ah, those guys went with the blacksmiths to gather iron sand.”
“Where?”
“The Elphant River. The mountain slopes there are exposed and there are frequent landslides, right? The blacksmiths begged them to dredge the riverbed. They went along on the condition that they’d get swords forged. They left in high spirits.”
“Will they be all right?”
“They should be. There are twenty of them. They went fully armed and took horses. They might catch up later.”
“I hope so…”
“Still, I can’t believe you got the Knight Medal.”
“Surprised?”
“No, after all you did it was only fair. You even took down an enemy general.”
“I’m the Bow Saint now, apparently.”
“So I hear. Sedy’s going to be jealous.”
“It’s only an honor.”
“But there’s only one at a time, right?”
“Even though I’m better with the sword…”
“Who holds it now?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really interested.”
“You’re as cool as ever…”
“Competing with others isn’t fun.”
“It’s going to get busy when we get back. Are you going to have your own unit?”
“Looks like it. I wonder if the chief will be angry about losing manpower to war.”
“Probably. By the way, did you get a family name?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re supposed to have one too, and we’re trying to decide. What did you choose?”
With quasi-regular status and military affiliation, they now needed to register names for the roster.
They had to report to the provincial governor.
“Rona.”
“What does it mean?”
“A long time ago that’s what we called ourselves.”
“Huh… Did your brother teach you that?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll go with that too.”
Word that Riad had decided on a family name spread instantly. Everyone decided to register under the same name, so the entire Rondo unit was recorded as the Rona house. The military roster was filled with rows of the Rona surname.
The journey home took roughly two days. On the evening of the first day, while they were preparing camp, Sedy’s group rejoined them.
The Elphant River had been a treasure trove; they had gathered a mountain of high-quality iron sand.
Five large hemp sacks stuffed full of rice had been replaced with iron sand and now sat piled on the wagon bed.
They said there was still more, so they would send additional people later.
They arrived at the village at dusk the next day and first went to report to the chief.
Not a single person was missing. The villagers who rushed to the chief’s house all breathed sighs of relief.
When they told him of Sara’s award and the support stipend, the chief shouted “Unbelievable!” and dashed barefoot out of the house from the veranda.
While everyone stood stunned, the chief crept back, put on his sandals, and hurried off again.
Wondering, they followed and found him at the shrine.
It was the shrine of the Rondo god—the deity enthroned at the center of the heavens.
Facing the ancestors who had been called to the god’s side, he pressed his hands together.
“Since our defeat in war we have tasted bitter hardship, but at last we have made them recognize our strength…”
The chief reported this with clasped hands.
After losing the war, their numbers had dwindled. Still they had struggled daily for sustenance and answered conscription in the intervals, yet almost nothing had improved.
They had lost far more than they had gained.
Over a hundred years, countless Rondo customs and techniques had vanished.
Especially lost skills never returned.
But now they had been granted the chance to begin anew.
There must have been regret, yet joy and relief were greater; tears spilled from the chief’s eyes.
Riad and the others watched silently from the shadows, then left him alone.
From then on, busy days began.
Because the cavalry had been incorporated into Sara’s unit, both her unit and the main Rondo unit were short on numbers.
In particular, the size of Sara’s unit had not yet been decided.
For now they gathered everyone in the Rondo unit who could ride and assigned them to Sara, then recruited about fifty infantrymen to fill the gap. They were swamped with volunteers in no time.
Everyone seemed moved by the recent exploits.
More than anything, the income was significant.
Five hundred silver coins per person per year was about half a regular soldier’s pay, yet for the Rondo village—which had lived by self-sufficiency with almost no marketable products—it was a huge change.
Everyone trained in the intervals between their regular work.
New weapons were needed, and the blacksmiths were swamped.
Amid the flurry, the new year arrived solemnly, and as daily life resumed, Clovis’s party arrived.
Regular army soldiers had been assigned as escorts.
Because of the major blunder in the previous battle, the Imperial Guard had been placed under indefinite house arrest—essentially waiting for them to submit their resignations.
The very organization of the Imperial Guard was criticized for lack of discipline, and voices calling for its abolition had even arisen.
Thus thirty men had been selected from the regular army to serve as Clovis’s escort.
In addition, several blacksmiths had come along.
They first visited the chief’s house, but upon hearing it was the second prince and his tutor, they panicked, tripped at the entrance, and injured their backs.
When Sara heard, she hurried to handle the situation.
She let the escorts rest, then first showed Clovis, Aquinas, and the craftsmen the blacksmith workshop.
Production was currently at full capacity.
The blacksmiths at the foot of the mountain showed no displeasure, but they quietly confessed their true feelings to Sara.
“If such important people were coming, you should have told us earlier. My hands are shaking so much I can’t work straight.”
“It’s fine. Just work as usual. You’re skilled—hold your head high!”
“Got it.”
“Teach them all sorts of things.”
“Is that okay?”
Sara nodded.
And so they demonstrated their skills before the visitors.
The capital craftsmen’s eyes were sharp.
At first they nodded appreciatively, but after a while their expressions grew stern. They furrowed their brows, stroked their chins, and peered closely.
Their demeanor changed when, after repeatedly folding and forging the steel, the smith drew it out into a thin rod.
They thought he was about to begin shaping—when instead the smith slid the iron bar off the anvil and, using the anvil’s corner, hammered the iron into small fragments.
Their eyes widened in surprise.
Then they examined and sorted the fragments, stacking them on an iron plate with long handles.
They stacked each piece carefully, as if there were directionality, wrapped the stack in paper, sprinkled muddy water over it, and placed it in the furnace to heat.
Once glowing red, he began hammering again.
He was forge-welding.
Then he folded it several more times.
Next he drew it out long, split it with a chisel into two, inserted another piece of iron between them, heated it red, and began hammering once more.
After that his expression returned to the earlier one, nodding approvingly.
Even at the stage where capital craftsmen would begin shaping, the Rondo added yet another process before entering that phase.
“What are you making now?”
A capital craftsman asked Sara.
“Spearheads.”
“So long!?”
Sara nodded and brought out a finished spear from the back to show them.
It was the same as her own.
Leaf-shaped, widening again near the base.
The head was two shaku, the shaft six shaku—rather short for a spear.
“Does this head shape have meaning?”
A reasonable question.
“Let me show you.”
Sara fixed several tightly bound layers of straw matting onto the test-cutting stand, then took up the finished spear.
The craftsmen assumed she would thrust.
But Sara swept the spear sideways.
The straw matting was sliced clean through.
Everyone stared in astonishment.
“It can cut!?”
“Yes. Most spears we use are this shape. Of course thrusting works too.”
Sara demonstrated a thrust.
The head shape closely resembled the swords issued by the army.
It was natural that it could cut, yet the edge was exceptionally sharp.
“Do you have any without shafts?”
Sara brought one before the handle was attached and handed it to them.
It was far narrower and thinner than Elysian army swords, much lighter.
Moreover, the tang was unusually long.
They discussed among themselves how to fit it into a shaft while maintaining strength.
Just then the smith who had been hammering earlier appeared, and a capital craftsman asked him.
“Can something this thin and narrow really not break?”
The Rondo smith answered.
“If it’s too hard it will snap, so we forge and shape it only up to the point where it is not overly hard.”
As soon as he answered, questions flew at him nonstop. With a troubled face he answered one after another.
They seemed especially curious about the process of folding the drawn-out iron.
Clovis and Aquinas watched the scene.
“You seem to have gained something,” Aquinas said.
“Now then, Your Highness, shall you join the training?”
“So soon?”
“Yes. At first you will mix with the new recruits over there and do the same training.”
“You won’t instruct me personally?”
Clovis looked slightly displeased.
“Everyone starts with that training. It builds correct grip and posture and teaches proper swinging. Without that foundation we cannot proceed.”
Seeing his unsatisfied expression, Sara decided to let him experience it firsthand.
She fixed another tightly rolled straw matting onto the test stand and called to Clovis.
Then she drew her own sword to show him.
“This is my sword.”
It was about two shaku four sun (72 cm).
“Please try cutting that with this sword.”
“May I?”
Sara nodded.
Clovis approached hesitantly and brought the sword down in a diagonal slash.
But the blade stopped halfway through the matting and was difficult to pull free.
Sara carefully removed it.
“When you do the training, this is what happens.”
She assumed hasso stance, stepped forward with her right foot, and sliced cleanly through.
There was no tension; the motion flowed naturally.
Clovis picked up the fallen bundle of straw. The cut was clean, without fraying.
He had never seen such a cut surface.
“I understand. I’ll do as you say first. Will you introduce me?”
Sara led Clovis over and introduced him to Harum and the others.
Clovis joined the new recruits and began sword-swinging practice.
“Did I disappoint him a little?” Sara asked Aquinas.
“I wonder. But he is wise; once he understands, he will accept it. Until now his sword practice was always one-on-one with a master, so training with people of similar skill may feel fresh.”
“We always train like that.”
“You too?”
“Yes. My foster father took me along and I practiced with everyone. Observing others’ movements is also important.”
“I see. Then what will you do?”
“Right now I’m focusing on the bow.”
“That’s unexpected. You with the bow?”
“Yes. Would you like to watch?”
Aquinas nodded and followed Sara toward the mountain.
Bow training took place in the mountains.
They had built a training ground near the spring where Leonis had once tried to shoot a deer. About thirty people were drawing bows there.
Watching, it quickly became clear what they were doing.
They were training to shoot with the right hand as well as the left.
“I see. With only the left you can only shoot in one direction.”
“Yes. When shooting from horseback, the left alone is insufficient. So we train to switch hands.”
“Can you do it?”
“I’m still training.”
Sara scratched her head.
She joined the line, held the bow with her right hand, nocked an arrow, and released.
She already looked quite proficient.
Some time later Harum arrived with Clovis.
Aquinas was sitting in front of the training ground and called to Clovis.
“How was it?”
“Training with everyone is fun. It’s the first time sword practice has been enjoyable.”
“I’m glad.”
“Where’s Sara?”
Aquinas pointed at Sara drawing her bow in the training ground.
“She’s training so she can handle the bow with her right hand too.”
Clovis watched her for a while.
“Even with that level of skill she still continues training…”
Aquinas looked at Clovis’s face.
It was a different face from when he studied academics—a man’s face.
Seeing it, Aquinas smiled happily, eyes glistening with tears.
A month had nearly passed since Clovis arrived at the village.
The craftsmen had grown quite close and now worked side by side with the Rondo smiths.
Clovis devoted himself single-mindedly to training, and his sword swings had begun to settle.
Harum had started teaching forms.
With the single-edged curved sword he taught attack and defense techniques.
They used wooden swords for practice.
Sara had not been seen for some time.
When Clovis asked, Harum answered that she had probably gone hunting.
Clovis said he wanted to go too, but Harum stopped him with a serious face.
“That is not a place for humans. It’s a mountain where wolves, bears, and tigers struggle for survival. Sara went there to temper her skills. It’s no place for us.”
He was curious, but he sensed there was a reason his instructor was so earnestly warning him.
Aquinas also shook his head.
Only Aquinas knew the circumstances, because Sara had told him.
One day Sara had come to consult him—something rare—so he had listened carefully.
“I am currently trying to form a mobile unit equipped with bows and spears. But we are desperately short on horses. Riad is building the infantry, so there is no point in me taking any. How do others procure horses?”
It was a genuinely pressing concern, so Aquinas answered politely.
“Houses with financial means buy horses. Those without petition the staff office. In that case they must present a well-organized proposal for the type of unit, and if its usefulness is recognized the staff office will cover the cost.”
“Documents are required?”
“Yes. The most reliable way is to present your concept at the semi-annual exercises held after the spring and autumn equinoxes for quasi-military and higher units. However, I believe the unit you are envisioning will pass. I think the staff office expects exactly this kind of unit. You can simply propose what you are currently training.”
Sara’s face cleared as if her worries had vanished.
“I see. Since the direction doesn’t seem wrong, I must do my own work.”
“Your own work?”
“Yes. I must inherit the secret tradition.”
“Secret tradition?”
“Yes. My foster father passed away before he could transmit the secret to me, so I am searching for the place where it was stored.”
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere deeper in these mountains.”
“You will go alone?”
“Yes. So I will be away from the village for a while. I feel sorry for His Highness.”
“It’s all right. His Highness seems to be enjoying himself with his study companions.”
“Then good. I leave tomorrow morning.”
“Understood. Leave His Highness to me.”
The next morning Sara left the village with her horse and the wolves.
Another month passed. One day, during Clovis’s training, Sara appeared without warning.
“You’re back.”
Harum asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you finish?”
“It’ll take a little longer.”
“Tough, huh.”
“Really.”
At that moment Clovis noticed Sara, waved, and called out.
Sara waved back.
He continued training with his companions.
“Welcome back.”
Aquinas greeted her happily.
“I have returned.”
“Did you obtain the secret tradition?”
“It still seems it will take more time.”
Repeating the same exchange felt strangely funny, and laughter welled up.
“His Highness has good aptitude.”
“Really?”
“Yes. His lower body is solid, so his axis has stopped wavering. Shall we test him?”
“Test?”
“A test cut.”
With that Sara headed into the mountains, and Aquinas followed.
She was going deeper behind her own house.
Past the lake and through the forest path stood a single mansion.
The sounds of hammering and the slightly high-pitched ring of chiseling echoed.
Sara entered and saw a man’s back.
He was sitting in the workshop making small metal fittings.
“Is that you, Sara?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s done.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it.”
“Ah. By the way, did you get the secret tradition?”
“A little more.”
“I see. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Thanks, brother. See you later.”
Aram turned, looked at Sara’s face, and nodded with a smile.
Aquinas watched silently.
In Sara’s arms were two swords.
They were swords with reddish-brown smoked-bamboo scabbards.
“What are those?”
“I intend to present them to His Highness. If the test cut succeeds, that is.”
Sara smiled.
Then the two descended the mountain.
They prepared the test-cutting stand and waited for a break before calling Clovis.
Clovis saw the rolled matting and instantly understood.
Sara handed him a sword. He tucked it into his sash and slowly drew it.
His stance was right-side seigan.
He stepped with his left foot and cut diagonally.
The straw bundle was sliced cleanly; the cut ends tumbled to the ground.
“It cut… It cut!”
Clovis was overjoyed.
“Your Highness, from now on I will teach you how to handle a sword.”
Clovis sensed something extraordinary in Sara’s serious expression and awkwardly sheathed the blade.
“On the battlefield, when arrows are exhausted and spears broken, the last weapon you take in hand is the sword. Consider it equal to your own life. It is the weapon you rely on at the very end. Never treat it carelessly. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good. Then I will teach you how to draw and sheathe the sword. Until you are accustomed, do it slowly. Especially when sheathing, you are most defenseless. Never let your guard down.”
Clovis listened to her words with utmost seriousness.
Aquinas watched the two of them.
How mysterious.
Many had tried to teach sword handling before, but none had begun by teaching the proper mindset for holding a sword.
Drawing the sword was only for the final moment.
What did they seek in a sword?
Why had the tool they kept beside them in readiness for death been crafted like such beautiful works of art?
Aquinas wanted to ask about their view of life and death.
What was the Elysian view of life and death?
Did they live while thinking of death?
Was that what it meant to be a warrior?
Yes—now Sara was trying to make His Highness into a warrior.
That was what Aquinas felt.
This text is an English translation of the story originally written in Japanese by 東風ふかば.
The translation was done using Grok 4.2.
You can read the original Japanese version here:
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